


Continuity of Timelines

by Cyanidal



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Break Up, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Massages, Miscommunication, Tags to be updated as stories are added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyanidal/pseuds/Cyanidal
Summary: Throughout every timeline in existence, anomalies come and go, each parallel facing another set of odd occurrences and deviations. Yet, throughout every singularity, one fact remains; an unbreakable bond between a Vulcan and his Human doctor.This is a collection of their stories throughout the Multiverse, ranging the worst of times to the best.---------Formerly "A Thousand Words to Choose From (and I'll Never Find the Right Ones)"Summary and title updated 5/10/19





	1. Muscle aches

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest; this was just self indulgent from my own muscle pains. I can't say I have regrets, minus the fact that I've got to improve my "how would Spock complicate a simple sentence" speech.
> 
> Un-beta'd.
> 
> Warning for mildly vulgar language.

Bones grunted as he sat up in the desk chair, feeling the muscles on his left shoulder tighten all the way across to partial conjunction with his neck. He’d known the way he’d slept a few nights prior was to blame. He’d felt the muscles ache the past few days, but was hoping that exercising the arm would alleviate the cramp. Of course, he was spectacularly incorrect.

He was in the process of filling a hypo with some of the strongest pain killers available - the ache was slowly creeping down and across his lower back now, limiting movement - when he heard two solid knocks at the office door.

“Come in.” Bones then proceeded to inwardly groaned when he saw it was the ever cold first officer. Why not deal with a ‘logical versus illogical’ argument while his back tears itself apart?

“Good afternoon, Doctor.” Spock was eyeing the almost forgotten hypo on the desk, the question evident even through his stone cold expression, but Bones didn’t feel obligated to explain.

“Well? What is it you need?” He knew there was bite behind his words but couldn’t care less, “I highly doubt you’ve come to chat over tea and biscuits.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at this, “Doctor, I fail to understand the relevance of-“

“Dammit Spock, it’s just an expression. Now, if you don’t need anything I’m going to ask you leave so I can finish these reports.”

Even while gesturing to the very neglected PADDs on the desk Bones was aware Spock could see through the lie. He raised an eyebrow again.

“You’ve not clocked into your quarters in three shifts, I came to check on the state of your condition.”

Bones laughed at this before standing up, “Well as you can see, I am perfectly alrigh-fuck,” He quickly sat back down, only then realizing he never got around to injecting the hypo. Well, shit.

“Doctor?”

Bones growled a tad, “Please leave, I'm fine.” He was straining to purposely subdue his southern drawl now, something he did for others to understand him. Pain blocks his ability to do so easily.

Staring incredulously, it was apparent the Vulcan did not believe him.

“Doctor, I’m only going to ask once you tell me what is wrong or I will be forced to report the matter.”

Bones groaned, gently raising his right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “God, you give me a headache.”

“I do not believe I am the cause for such, seeing as I am across the room.”

A retort was lost when his back spasmed again, causing him to lean forward heavily on the desk with a groaned fuck.

He was unaware the Vulcan had crossed the room - he also noticed the door shut, when did he do that? - until a hand was hesitantly placed on his shoulder. Bones knew what Spock was asking, only capable of nodding against another wave of pain, now fully across his left shoulder, neck, and lower back. He felt Spock's fingers move gently across his face before settling on his psi points.

Bones had become accustomed to the feeling of an intruder in his mind, a consequence of the many times he had been injured in the field. He nearly fell over with relief at the alleviation of pain, until he opened his eyes again that is and saw Spocks filled with brief pain (the Vulcans emotions was always visible in his eyes).

”Spock, you’re hur-” Bones found himself cut off by what he could only call the ’Vulcan Death Stare.’

”Doctor, I wish to apply a terran word to my next statement.”

”Uh...yeah, go ’head. Do call me Leonard or Bones though, you’re makin’ me feel weird.”

”Very well, Leonard, forgive me.”

”It’s nothin’, now what is it?”

”How the _hell_ are you functioning.”

Bones blinked, ”did...did you just attempt to curse at me?”

Spock's eyes furrowed slightly, and if Bones wasn't in such pain he may have found it endearing, ”Do not attempt to deflect my question, Leonard.”

”Spock it's fine, and actually, you’re cock-blocking me from my date with that hypo there.”

Taking it as an invitation, the Vulcan picked up the medicine to examine the contents, ”What compound is this Leonard? I’ve never seen the color.”

”It’s a...uh... a new one.” Bones saw the look Spock shot him and knew he was screwed.

”Do not lie to me, Leonard. Now, what is in it?”

“...It’s a mixture, Spock. Triple dose.”

Bones would swear to his grave the eyebrow on Spock's head nearly arched off into space.

“That is extremely dangerous *Doctor*.” The last word was emphasized slightly, but Leonard got the point without it.

“Dammit, I know! It ain’t exactly somethin’ I can sleep off!” He inwardly cringed at his slip of the tongue, the accent rolling off as a comfort. He watched the Vulcan eying him, frustration emanating from him. Bones closes his eyed and gently pinched the bridge of his nose; the last thing he needed was a headache on top of the muscle pain.

“Leonard, I have a more logical solution to your pain.”

A grunt. ”Hit me.”

”I fail to see how that is relevant-“

“Spock shut the hell up and tell me.”

The Vulcan hummed briefly before walking behind Bones. Before the good doctor could protest, there was a hand guiding him to lean forward on his arms on the desk, pushing against his good shoulder.

“Leonard, do you trust me?”

“Is my blood red?”

“Yes, bu-“

“There’s your answer.” Despite his trust, Bones does have a slight ego. Keeping his macho-man image is a consequence of such a feat.

Bones grit his teeth against newer and stronger waves of pain when he felt a hand press against the shoulder muscle. It moved gently, just below the blade, and Bones closed his eyes as the pain increased briefly. It rubbed soft yet hesitant circles into the knot, and when it loosened slightly Bones couldn’t help his contented sigh. This reassured Spock as he put forth a better effort. God, he loved the Vulcan, too bad he had eyes for Jim.

He felt a second hand on his back, both moving down to work out the muscles in his lower back. Even though his medical shirt and undershirt it felt amazing and relaxing. Bones began to doze before he felt a soft tap on his shoulder, blinking up to meet Spock’s eyes.

“I apologize Leonard, but I need your permission for your neck. It’s a lot tighter than the other muscles and is bound to hurt you.”

“You may continue.” He couldn’t quell his anxieties, but dammit all if Bones was gonna say no.

Two thumbs rubbed deeply into the base of his neck and he gave a partial yelp; he would never be able to ignore pain like the Vulcan.

He was quickly hushed, the Vulcan whispering blissful nothings in his ear - “It’s alright Leonard, relax. I am here” - and Bones swore he felt his heart yearn then and there. Despite the now easing pain, he felt warm and bubbly, like he once did back in the Georgian heat with the woman he swore was the love of his life.

Before he knew it - if he ever did - he was asleep, head on crossed arms with a small smile dancing his lips.

The Vulcan picked the sleeping Doctor up gently, carrying him bridal style as Bones unconsciously turned closer into the warmth. Anyone in the halls didn’t dare question Spock, and he didn’t bless them with an answer.

Inside the quarters he placed Bones down on the bed gently, watching the man frown slightly at the loss of heat. The Vulcan considered for a moment before making sure the door was locked and sliding into bed beside Bones - it was a logical decision, the man was shivering slightly - before covering them both. It was not the first time, so Spock was unworried about the response. He always knew the Doctor would look more peaceful in his sleep and he was right; the stress lines and tired eyes faded away while the man slept. Spock gently traced the side of his face before placing two fingers on two of Bones that had been near their faces. 

“ _Ashayam_ ,” Spock whispered it as if it was a secret that would end them - which it could but he would never let that happen - “I...care for you as well Leonard.” Maybe one day he would call it love.

Spock certainly didn’t miss the way the unconscious smile widened a fraction.


	2. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s always been one day in the year that McCoy hates over all others. The regret only comes from the misplaced anger, and the consequences of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself, “You WILL NOT write angst. If you do, you will not post it. You will seperate it.” But, well, you’re reading this so it would seem that did not work.
> 
> This is 11pm angst and unbetad. There are bound to be errors but I can’t see them myself. I’m mildly unsure because pacing was an issue in this, but its half vent and half a need to make angst. I’ll make it up in the next story.
> 
> Warnings: Language (Leonard) and implied Major Character Death.

_When I watch the world burn, all I think about is you._

When he watched that damned Vulcan walk out the door, he was sure he felt his heart crack. There was no going back; not now, and probably not ever. That thought made him positive of his beliefs, and he watched his heart shatter at his feet as he slowly brought himself to sit on the ground before he fell. It was a god-gifted wonder everything went down in his quarters because no one would dare disturb him (except maybe Jim, but the Captain was having a well-deserved rest after the most recent catastrophe).

_”You know for a fucking fact that wasn’t supposed to happen!”_

_”You are being emotional.”_

_”And you are being stubborn, Mr. Spock.”_

So what if he’d ended up in sickbay; he’s the one always taking care of the green-blooded hobgoblin and Captain Dumbass. No one asks a CMO, “Hey, you alright? It must be difficult constantly seeing family at death's door.”

No one asks if gruff and grumpy Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy is _alright_. Maybe that’s where the fight came from, the urge to make him hurt. Thinking back, maybe it was a way to make himself hurt. No one stays around if you stab them, and maybe that’s what the whole point of this was.

_”Leonard, I must insist you lie down. You aren’t being yourse-“_

_”And why would you care Spock? Why would you care how I am, or even KNOW how I am? You never ask; actually, I don’t think you’ve ever asked! I thought this was a good idea; you, me, US. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are just that unfeeling, green-blooded, hobgoblin I always thought you were.”_

Yeah, that would make anyone walk out quickly. McCoy wasn’t even sure why he said it anymore, Spock isn’t who he’s angry with. The Vulcan means well, in his odd, logical way. McCoy didn’t even mean what he said it was just...old insults to reopen old wounds. 

When he was married, he would make love to walls with his fists, leaving them covered in blood and gashes that have left scars to this day. They aren’t noticeable to most people except the ones getting know him personally. He has a relapse of punching occasionally, usually the result of a lot of alcohol, but never at a person. Even in a drunken haze, he would never break his personal morals.

Maybe this was the new method of wall-punching; smash your heart until it breaks you in return. 

He drew his knees to his chest, leaving his weight on his back against the bedside. Gently and slowly, he placed his arms over top his knees and placed his head on them, ignoring the wetness that was trailing down his face. He wasn’t drunk, and he didn’t mean what he said - god he didn’t mean any of it except that no one does ask if he’s okay. Because he wasn’t.

Leonard was never okay on the anniversary of his divorce; the alcohol he was itching for and the harsh words were enough to see that. If his neighbor (he thinks it’s Scotty’s room, since very few have senior staff quarters) heard the smashing of the wall, they didn’t mention it to him.

————

Two weeks later, and barely any words exchanged with the Vulcan, they returned to base after the five-year mission. Whilst celebration commenced and new contracts were formed for another mission, McCoy filed his resignation.

Everyone, or almost everyone, fought to make him stay. No one tried harder than Jim though, and McCoy felt his heartbreak all over at the sadness in the large blue eyes.

“This isn’t where I should be Jim; space was never meant for me. I’m a Georgia man and one that needs to keep his feet on the ground. I wouldn’t trade these past years for a damn thing Jim, but I can’t stick out anymore.”

He still tried occasionally before the Enterprise headed out again, but it was obvious Jim, and the others, knew there was no point. He was sure the look in Chekov’s eyes would haunt him forever.

The Vulcan never saw him off, nor tried to make him stay. It was expected; he was the only person who knew the real reason McCoy was leaving. Yeah, he hated space, but he mainly resented the fact he could no longer work need the First Officer. Less so then when they first started and he’d hated the Vulcan.

He saw the Enterprise off and kept his self-made promise that he wouldn’t shed a tear. Yet as he headed home to the small farm in Southern Georgia, he felt as if he’d done the worst thing in his life.

He just hoped the hospital staff was as funny as the Enterprise crew.

———  
2 years later

Incoming message...  
From: Dr. Leonard McCoy  
Subject: I’m sorry.

I never told you I was sorry, and I never explained. I watched you walk away with the hurt from my words and did nothing. I couldn’t face what I’d done. So I left and this is where we’ve ended up; light years apart and you’re still on my mind.  
I don’t hope to accomplish anything from this; I just felt I should tell you.

-McCoy  
_Read 14:23_  
\- - - -  
_Please select what to do with this message._  
.....  
Message saved.

————

Incoming message...  
From: USS Enterprise First Officer Spock  
Subject: RE: I’m sorry.

You were forgiven long ago. But I regret to inform you that I will not be returning home. I am sorry Leonard; for I do not regret much in life, but I do feel resentment for walking away.

I never stopped loving you.

-Spock  
_Read 16:08_  
———  
Incoming message...  
From: Dr. Leonard McCoy  
Subject: I love you too

I love you too, and I never stopped. I’ve always regret what I said; I never understood how much what I said hurt. I was so blackout drunk afterward I remember pieces of dialogue and bloody fists on a wall. God, I fucked up that night...  
Despite it all, I never meant what I said. If I could take it all back I would; I would a million times over.

I love you so much.  
_Unread - Sent 16:14_

———

A man once said, “Sometimes it’s the smallest decisions that can change your life forever.” McCoy knows there’s nothing truer as he stares at the “unread” next to the last message he sent.

It’s been a year, and he doesn’t blame himself for how, but he blames himself for everything leading up to it.

Killed in the line of duty; protecting the Captain. If he’d been the CMO he thinks he could have saved him, or maybe not let him end up there anyway. Or at least not die alone.

He thinks back to that day in his quarters when his anger got the best of him, and he shoved the best thing in his life out the door. Maybe this wouldn’t have been the end if he didn’t point his anger at the first convenient person.  
—

Leonard McCoy has always hated the anniversary of his divorce; a day that now goes down as the second worst of the year. The first goes to the anniversary of the death of a Vulcan who should be by his side; the day that his heart was no longer broken, but rather non-existent.

And the day he sent that godforsaken message that will forever be _unread._


End file.
